


moments pass me by

by babybirdblues



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse, Family, Gen, Jason Todd is a good brother, Other, Rewrite, Underage implied, attempted healing, dysfunctional family trying to be a functional one, even when he doesn't think he is, issues with consent, journey of healing, noncon implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-04 02:08:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6636808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babybirdblues/pseuds/babybirdblues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rewrite of my You're Breaking verse.</p>
<p>AU. Bruce was Jason's dad: always was and always will be. But he's a shitty one to Tim who's broken and needs them.  Jason's just not quite sure he should be the one trying to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	moments pass me by

**Author's Note:**

> I pulled all five parts of You're Breaking together into one and edited it. I expanded on some parts, took out some others. There are triggers: implied sexual abuse, implied rape, neglect and a whole bunch of others.

**Part I**

There's a certain satisfaction in the way people cower away when Jason shows up.  It makes him feel powerful, feel able in ways he never felt when he was younger -- a childhood of theft, nights of patrol and trying to _be more_ \-- today might be turning out to be a Pit Day.

Good for business.  Bad for company.

Not that Jason has a lot of company.

He’ll just have to check and make sure that the Replacement isn’t showing up to hand over the information on the recent re-immergence of drugs in Crime Alley.  Better yet, Jason should just text him he’s out in the Alley patrolling, leave the information in the regular place and go find Daddy Bats or something.

No need to break the unsteady truce.  

And it  _ really _ is an unsteady truce.  The Replacement does as little as possible to piss Jason off, while still giving him updates on any potential threat to his mission.  Jason then tries to avoid the kid during Pit Days and doesn’t engage him in anything overtly violent otherwise.

It’s a good system.

Until it’s not.

(There’s pools of blood intertwined in them -- mostly the Replacement’s if Jason’s honest; but if you look hard enough, long enough, you’ll see how much Jason’s bleed, how much of him is stained and brittle with coagulated time.)

\---

Jason’s unsure why he checked on the Replacement today.  Through trial and error he still wasn’t able to determine if it was a Pit Day or not -- maybe it was? It could be?  Who even knows anymore?  But the fact of the matter is that he did, even if he shouldn’t have.  He’s going to ignore the little voice in the back of his head screaming that  _ he should, that he always should because obviously no one else is and the kid is going to die without anyone knowing _ , and yeah.  So, Jason is rather confused on the whys.  He just knows the hows.

Fuck if he likes those.

Either way, it’s not every day Jason feels the burning anger -- normally directed at the fucking kid -- that builds up in his muscles, leaving them twitching and rearing to move, directed at nothing because he already killed the fucker who thought it would be fun to strangle the Replacement on his watch.  (When it shouldn’t have been his watch.  Didn’t the Replacement do Patrol with Dickie?)

The best thing Jason could do would probably be to leave.  But he can’t just leave the kid --  _ strangled, how long, how much oxygen depravation, how much damage to the throat, can he even breathe yet, isn’t he moving too slow? _ \-- to run into someone more dangerous.  Like the Joker.

Scrubbing a hand over his face he debates calling Dick on the sort-of-stolen comm hidden away in his belt.  It’s still a probably Pit Day so this can only end in blood -- the Replacement’s -- if he tries to help the kid out.  He’s fishing for the comm, half turned away, which is probably the only reason why Jason gets to see it.  The kid would never let his guard down enough otherwise.  There’s a bone deep exhaustion that weighs down the Replacement’s shoulders, seemingly doing what gravity should be doing, but never could.  No wonder the asshole got the jump on him.  

“Hey,” the harsh bark of Jason’s voice causes the kid to flinch.  (Probably thought Jason was still occupied.  Little shit was gonna sneak away.)  It might have caused Jason himself to flinch too, but no one was looking, so, plausible deniability and all that shit.  “You gonna call Dickie or what?”

The kid shakes his head, hands flittering around.  It takes a moment for Jason to recognise sign.  So, the kid’s throat is obviously fucked.

“Repeat that,” luckily these words come out less, well, harsh.  “I ain’t been practising that shit.”

Kid has the balls to roll his eyes before he repeats the signs for Jason.   _ ‘Busy.  Be fine.  Home.’ _

Bullshit.

Actually.  “Bullshit.”  Huh.  That word was growled and the kid actually looked Jason straight in the eye.  Good to know that the little shit actually had a backbone when he was fucking lying.  “Dickie would be here in a heartbeat if he knew you’d taken damage, babybird.”

_ 'Fine. Busy.' _

“Uh huh,” Jason really doesn’t believe it.  “Tell you what, I shadow you and then when you get home I call Alfred to come check on your shitty ass.  Dickie’ll be a fucking pain if you end up dead somewhere.”

There’s a scream somewhere to their left -- and a faint buzz of electricity -- but it’s insignificant.  And it’s certainly not more interesting than the Replacement right now.  Plus, Jason’s pretty sure Jan’s got her girls’ tasers, so, it’s probably them.  If it’s not, he’ll deal with them after he’s got the kid all sorted.  Family first and all that shit.  Even if family is subjective and fucked up.  And, you know, mostly so Dick doesn’t invade his couch and pout at Jason for a full fucking month.

The kid keeps quiet.  Jason’s pretty sure that’s he’s trying to wait him out, which you know, is pretty fucking adorable.  Jason’s damn patient when he has to be.  He just likes the direct approach.  So much easier than taking weeks to do something when you can shoot someone to get something done now.  Anyways, the point is the kid just keeps blinking at him, like a confused kitten.

No that's an idea.

\---

Three hours, seventeen minutes and a few odd seconds.

That’s how long it took to get the fucking kid to calm down and rest.  Granted, Jason might’ve shaken him a little.  The fucker deserved it -- Jason may have grabbed him by the scruff of his neck but that didn’t call for  _ dirty fighting _ .  Part of Jason’s proud of the kid.  He sort of knew the Replacement had it in him, but it was an aside to the whole, well, Replacement part.

Either way, Alfred got to the kid’s apartment eventually.  Jason may have exasperated the situation, and the kid’s injures, by having to sit on him.  Alfred has the patience of a Saint.  (They’re pretty lucky.)

But because Jason’s finally managed to bully the kid into getting looked at -- by Alfred no less -- he has more time to do what has been building up all night.  He needs to go to the Manor.  Well, more specifically, the Cave.

There’s a distinct lack in the Replacement’s life.

Jason doesn’t like what that represents.  Doesn’t like the silence and the pointed ignoring the kid was doing.  Doesn’t like the excuses and the fucking  _ everything _ .  There’s having issues with your family and then there’s having  _ Issues with your family _ .  Jason thinks this is an Issues time.  He’s actually pretty sure a lot of things with the Replacement are Issues but there is no way in hell is he qualified to even touch on a lot of that. This at least he can bulldoze into.

So, yeah, Cave time.  Hopefully before Batman gets back from Patrol.

\---

Batman never went out on Patrol.

Weird, but not quite unheard of.

Bruce doesn’t even seem bothered by it, working on something at the consol.  Probably something for his League of Hot Pants, which yeah, okay, important.  But he noticed Jason.  Even if he hasn’t acknowledged that Jason’s in the Cave -- weirder than Batman not going out on Patrol -- he knows he’s there.

“You even know one of your kids nearly died tonight, B?”

Jason’s surprised his voice comes out light, airy -- almost teasing.  But it gets Bruce’s attention.  The man turns, raising an eyebrow, shoulders rising in a sigh.

“Nightwing would have comm’ed if something had happened to Robin.  The same with Ora--”

The snort is harsh, burning the back of Jason’s throat even as it echoes through the Cave.  “Now, I’m not sure if I should ask if you assume the Replacement can take care of himself and is super skilled or just assume something worse.”

Now Bruce’s eyebrows furrow.  His lips pinch and he half stands.  “You never said--”

“I said one of your kids.”

“I kn--”

“No, B.” So, today is one of the Pit Days.  Just, different victim to the violence.  Good to know.  “You accepted him as one of your kids, you know?  You got him and you can’t just, you can’t take it away when you want?  Like, fuck.  How shitty of a dad can you be?”

It kind of hurts, to see Bruce’s face crumble; to see the failures he keeps hidden behind masks surface for a few seconds.  But Jason’s on a roll.

“You failed me, yadda yadda, I’ve heard that one all before.  But to ignore the Replacement when I mention your kids.  Did you even consider him?”

The longer Jason talks, the more Bruce pulls himself together.  “Jason.  Enough.  Tim has, had a family.  He became Robin and grew into himself.  He’s perfectly capable of--”

Red overlays Jason’s vision.

It’s better than the vivid green he normally gets; the green of the lazarus pit.  He’d rather not go on a bender and try to kill everyone who pissed him off.  But maybe this isn’t any better.  Because he can’t quite remember what he’s been yelling at Bruce.  He’ll ask Alfred to watch the cameras later.  Or Dick.  Hell, maybe he can bribe the Demon Child.

“-- I sat on him for three hours.  Three hours and he couldn’t do a fucking thing against me.  That’s not the fucking Replacement.  That’s a shadow of the kid.  Hell, even seven months ago if he’d been strangled he would’ve put up a better fight!  He’s running himself into the ground and you haven’t even thought of checking in on him.  Haven’t thought that maybe he wouldn’t fucking mind -- you’re like his second fucking father.”

Bruce doesn’t answer.  Maybe he can’t.

It doesn’t matter.  Jason’s disgusted and done.  

“Be the father you were to me, Bruce,” the anger’s back, making his muscles quiver with the need to destroy something.  He needs to leave before that something becomes Bruce’s face.  “Because I, at least, knew you loved me when I died.”

Jason makes it to the exit before Bruce answers.  The only thing that stops him from going back down the stairs is the Demon Brat standing down the hall, frozen in confusion and naturally wary.

“I never wanted another son after you.”

Jason just hopes the Demon Brat didn’t hear it.  Because he can’t even speak.  Can’t even choke out the words that he knows are true, knows need to be said and probably need to be said by him.

This is why he should never have gotten involved.  He swears under his breath as he leaves behind a confused and wary kid to deal with an emotional mess.

**Part II**

The crowd pulses with energy.  Shouts echo along the wall, swallowed before they reach the opposite side of the room by another excited mess of violence. 

No one cares when Jason upends the first empty bottle on a too-muscled black-haired blue eyed man who got a little too close, a little too judgemental.  No one cares when he thrusts a knife into a man twice his size and leaves him to bleed out underfoot.  No one cares when he barges into the ring demanding a fight.

They all have a reason to be here.  Adrenaline.  Homicidal rage.  Anger and fear at oneself.

Jason just does it better than all the others.

It’s probably why the only people Jason’s been fighting are the green ones.  Shitty veteran ring fighters see him come in and get the hell out of dodge before he puts them out of it.  The least they could do is nominate someone to stay and give him a good fight.  He probably won’t kill ‘em.  He actually likes most of the veterans.

\---

Lin, the asshole who runs this place, is waving Jason outta the ring after his whatever-number win when he notices it.  A sort of itch along his back.  A feeling of someone watching -- not that people aren’t ever not watching in the rings, but more like staring.  It’s disconcerting in a way that makes him wish he hadn’t drank that surprise home brew earlier in the evening.

Hell, he wishes he never heard of the surprise home brew.

Jason manages not to make it obvious that he’s twitchy.  Anyone in this shitshow would be more than willing to jump him over it.  He knows from experience and you know, doing the exact same thing.  So, acting natural is how it’s done.  Sort of.

Spinning in lazy circles as he ‘ _ sizes up the competition _ ’ isn’t quite natural.  But it allows him to keep the area near him free.  It also makes it harder for others to notice he’s not actually paying much attention to faces.  Not that that means much.  Most of these faces have been broken at least once, which is funny; some of them look better for having their faces broken.  Jason’s pretty sure he told Mack that to his then-broken face, and then maybe he broke it some more.  

Anyways, Jason eventually finds what makes him feel like he’s being targeted for death.

There are eyes staring at Jason from the vent.

Now, this isn’t the first time this has happened.  Probably won’t be the last.  Especially since hallucinations are part and partial to Pit Days and you know, getting super fucking drunk on whatever the shit they serve in these dives.  Home brews man, home brews.  But, Jason’s pretty sure these eyes aren’t hallucinations.

Actually -- they blink and he knows they’re not.

Somehow the fucking kid  _ found him _ in the shittiest fight ring this side of the Underground.  Well.

There goes the evening.

Jason might not be the best older brother figure -- he doesn’t even like the kids he has to be older brother for -- but he knows that staying here is definitely not being a good role model.  His shoulders slump, a sigh escaping through pinched lips.  At least he made some cash -- the physical violence was nice too.

When Jason glances back at the vent the eyes are gone.  “Fucking weak ass crotch goblins and their fucking shit.”

Lin -- who’s trying to convince Jason to stay until the Champion is crowned -- doesn’t even bat an eyelash at the curse Jason lets out.  It’s pretty common here.  The bastard just laughs at Jason, waving him off and telling him to have fun the rest of the night.  He must’ve seen the kid too.

\---

Five hours, twenty-one minutes and some fucking seconds.

The Replacement must really not want to be found.  But tough luck.  Jason hasn’t dragged himself through the streets of Chinatown, Little Italy,Old Gotham and then fucking Crime Alley just for the kid to disappear on him.  It doesn’t help that Jason’s becoming fucking sober as shit and still probably in a marathon of Pit Days.

_ Fuck it.  _  Maybe he should just go downstairs and sleep -- except the kid just landed on the roof of Jason’s apartment building.  This is the first time he’s been so close that Jason could probably just get behind him and knock him out.

Not a bad idea.

\---

Jason takes a minute to preen at his ability to demobilize the kid.  The fucker is slippery as fuck -- almost like an eel -- and it takes a considerable amount of talent to get him to stay still.  Especially when he doesn’t want to be.  Fucking Replacement.  

“You’re having a dissociation today,” the kid’s voice is even and soft, even though he just spent five plus hours in an intense game of hide and seek with Jason.  He just stares up at Jason, not even bothering to try to stab him with the knife that’s located in his uniform’s arm.  It’s a little disappointing.  Jason expected more of a fight.

It really pisses Jason off that he didn’t get it.  “And,” he coos at the Replacement’s blank -- even blanker now -- face.  “I always have Pit Days.  What’s so fucking special about it?”

The kid’s eyebrows furrow, his lips turning downwards.  “You normally only attack me, these days.  You don’t go after--”

Huh.  Okay, so he’s confused.  Jason can get behind that.  Because these last few days have been nothing but a clusterfuck of confusion.

“Normal and me don’t mix, kid,” he’s careful not to laugh bitterly at that.  “It’s never mixed.”

“Your drinks do.”

Ha!  The kid made a joke, which makes Jason a little proud?  Like, he’s not pinned under two-hundred plus pounds of muscle and anger.  “We ain’t talking about that, unless you wanna?”

“You took me home,” the kid pauses, eyes squinting up at Jason, unable or unwilling to be read.  His voice is still hoarse from the strangling a few days ago.  “You forgot to erase the Cave’s feed.”

Well, Jason supposes that’s true.  But he was a little preoccupied with not, you know,  _ killing Bruce _ .  He also didn’t really expect anyone to watch it.  (He wanted Bruce to: wanted him to see how much he fucked up if Jason’s coming to him about a problem, to see how much more painful he can make his own life.)

“Eh,” he risks removing a hand from the kid’s wrists to wave noncommittally.  This conversation probably isn’t going well.  At least, the kid is now giving him an unimpressed look instead of looking away.  “We’ll talk about it after I’ve slept off the last of Lin’s homebrew.  Fuck that shit ain’t nice.”

Kid tries to get up at that.  He wiggles but all it does is cause Jason to flop all his weight down on top of him.  “Shhhh.  Sleeping, babybird.  Go the fuck to sleep.”

**Part III**

Waking up, Jason knows he shouldn’t have put off the talk.  The kid’s a statue beside him, breathing erratic and, well, Jason just knows there’s something else fucked up here.  Because this is Jason’s safe place, this apartment building.  No one is going to come for them here but the kid’s behaving like it’s an execution.

“All right,” the kid starts so bad he elbows Jason in the nose.  (He probably deserved it.)  “We’re gonna go down to my apartment and talk like the fucking adults we are.  Probably.  At least, I have a first aid kit to use if we just decide to beat the shit out of each other.”

There isn’t a response, anger or otherwise, so Jason feels secure enough to lead the kid downstairs.

He really should have be more worried.

\---

They barely make it in the door before the Replacement has him on the ground, lips pressed over his.

Okay, slow down, back the fuck up and, yeah no.

Jason hits the kid -- and yeah, he’s a fucking kid -- upside the head as he sputters.  “Uh, yeah, no.”  And it takes a second, a too long second where the kid hides away something, for Jason to notice that the tension is still there. “Look, I’m probably still a bit drunk, fucking homebrews, and I’m most definitely still in a ‘ _ dissociative episode _ ’ as you like to call them and what the fuck are you doing?”

The kid tried to undo his pants and yeah, it made Jason’s voice just go an octave higher.  But really.

_ Really. _

“I,” more furrowed brow and confusion.  “This is what you do for others, for family.”

Jason’s fucking floored. He wants to know who the fucking piece of shit is that taught this particular lesson to the kid.  Family doesn’t do that shit.  The kid shouldn’t do that shit.  Jason really, really hopes this is just one of his socially awkward moments where the Replacement doesn’t realise what’s actually wrong with the thing he just did.  Because he sees a lot of death in the future for whoever taught this particular lesson.

“Fuck that!  You don’t fuck someone who’s family, unless you know, you’re married or in love or whatever, and I’m not discussing incest with you,” Jason raises a hand to cover his eyes because he’s just so done.  “None should be doing that shit to you.  You don’t owe them nothing.”

The kid doesn’t seem to understand.  He’s frowning -- eyebrows furrowed again -- and staring up at Jason with those fucking blue eyes.  Jason doesn’t know what to do.  This isn’t what he was expecting.  Not at all and -- he pushes the kid back to sit the fuck down against the wall.  He looks at Jason like he’s just been betrayed.  Ain’t that nice?

“We’re not doing this  _ Tim _ ,” Jason emphasises his name.  Because he ain’t gonna let the kid just ignore this.  “We’re family, even if it’s a fucked up one.  We’re brothers and you may be a fucking dick and I may be a fucking asshole but we’re not doing this.”

Tim -- and he has to be Tim now, not the kid or the Replacement or anything else until this is over and solved -- is obviously trying to understand.  He doesn’t reach for Jason again;  _ thank you _ small miracles.  Jason’s angry enough he might do something stupid if the kid kept going.  But the lesson was obviously taught to Tim, enforced even, and Jason really just wants to kill someone.

“I’ve,” there’s a stutter of breath, a crack in a perfectly rehearsed phrase.  “I’ve always done this.  I would do it for anyone else too.”

Not okay.  This is not okay.

Jason doesn’t want to think about who ‘ _ anyone _ ’ entails.  He just knows it’s not gonna be him.  He’s not gonna abuse whatever this is, can’t even stomach the thought.

“I am still a little drunk, kid.  This isn’t happening.  We’re gonna go to sleep -- just sleep! -- and then when we wake up, I’m making food and we’re gonna talk.  About everything: where you got this idea, why I fucking took you home and confronted Bruce, why we’re a family and why the fuck family doesn’t do--” Jason’s hand chops through the air at the last bit.  “You’re gonna make me have a stroke.  _  I know it. _ ”

He can see Tim doesn’t want to but Jason’s not giving Tim a goddamned fucking choice.  Someone needs to do this -- someone should have done this a long fucking time ago.

\---

They wake up.  Tim goes for the window as soon as he thinks Jason isn’t paying attention.  It doesn’t work.  Jason wrangles him into the kitchen and onto a chair.  “You’re gonna sit your ass down and if you move a  _ fucking inch _ , I’m tying you to the fucking rafters, upside down.  Like a piñata.”

Tim just nods, looking back at him with those fucking eyes.  (He wishes he hadn’t seen those eyes staring at him through the vents.)  There’s something in them that Jason can’t identify.  So he makes breakfast and sets it in front of Tim with an order to eat.  Tim does so reluctantly.

When they’re finished Jason lets Tim help clean; he’s twitching and looking at the dishes.  Jason wants to laugh hysterically.  Because this wasn’t how he envisioned today.  Wasn’t something he ever envisioned.

He let’s himself drop back into a chair, motioning for the kid to do the same.

“So.  Where you wanna start?”

Tim looks at him from under his bangs.  “I saw the video from the Cave.  Alfred showed me.”

Not expected.

Jason’s really tired of things he’s not expecting.  “Yeah, doesn’t explain why you hunted me the fuck down.  Coulda asked B, or hell, Alfie.”

Tim looks away and shrugs, not answering.  Fucking hell this conversation is like pulling teeth; he still doesn’t really want to have it, and from the reactions he’s getting, neither does the kid.

“B.  Bruce never wanted any of us, I think.  But he got us, and he should have at least tried to be the father he was to Dick, to me.  You take too many unnecessary risks.  Risks B should have figured out, if he was doing his job.  Damn fucker always kept a close eye on me.”  There’s no response.  “You’re  _ not _ a tool.  You’re  _ not _ a fucking robot.  You  _ matter _ and you saved his damn, fucking life.  You’re supposed to be family and you can’t.  You need to know that family don’t do that shit.  I learned from my family what mistakes are, what families are supposed to do and don’t.”

Tim hums, so at least he’s listening.

“This whole, ‘ _ this is what you do for family, for everyone _ ’, is  _ not _ something family does.  It’s abuse -- not to mention treating you like nothing and there’s probably some neglect in there, ain’t there?”

Tim doesn’t respond. So, Jason sighs, resting his chin on a hand and watches Tim.  He’s patient about some things.  He can wait the kid out.

\---

“He’d come into my room.”

Jason manages not to start, it’s been about three hours since they’ve been at this standstill.  Jason wasn’t sure Tim was going to speak to him at all.  He wouldn’t blame the kid.

“I was six and Mother’d be sleeping and he’d tell me--”

“That’s enough,” Jason feels sick.  He understands, now, who taught Tim this lesson.  He’s kind of glad the man is dead.  Kind of wished he’d done it himself -- Jason remembers Bruce sending Tim away, back to his dad and the bile rises through his throat even though he wills it down.  There’s a panic rising.  It feels like maggots under his skin, digging and digging and don’t look at the dirt that makes you, just keep breathing.

Tim’s pale, shaking and he probably doesn’t understand.  Well, he must on some level but it’s hard to recover from something like that when nobody knows, when nobody seems to care.

“I was eight,” Jason’s voice cracks.  He licks his lips, noting the metalic taste of blood -- he must have bitten through them.  Tim flinches across from him, Jason’s voice a reminder of something.  He has to ignore the silent tears, too filled with emotions to name.  “This asshole who lived down the corner from us, well, he took a liking, I guess.  Followed me one day.  Shoved it in and left me raw, bleeding and fucking terrified out of my mind.”

The tears on Tim’s face don’t stop.  But Jason doesn’t know how else to help.  He can’t just hug the kid -- they’ve never done that -- and he can’t just say it’s gonna be allright.  Because it’s not; he feels  _ dirty _ remembering it.  Saying it aloud makes it worse.  But if sharing this helps the kid realise something is wrong with what happened to him, he can fucking take it.

He hopes Tim understands.  Hopes he starts using that fucking giant intellect of his.  All he can do is be there, be patient and just, try.  “People are never supposed to do that to you, babybird.  Especially not family.”

Maybe it’s getting through, because Tim nods slowly.

\---

“You know,” Jason can’t believe the kid.  “I never knew my floor was white.”  He’d been in the shower for twenty minutes tops.  Because while he’s pretty sure Tim won’t bolt he wasn’t willing to stay in there longer, no matter how good it felt to just soak.

Tim freezes where he’s scrubbing the kitchen tile.  Jason only absentmindedly notes that he looks ready to leave.  He’s too busy staring at the half of the floor that’s a sparkling, white tile.

“Huh.  I guess it doesn’t make sense to have that ugly ass grey colour for a tile colour.”

Tim’s body moves in little twitches, like he’s not sure how to move or what to do.  It’s kind of cute.  In the adorably, heartbreaking way.  Like, watching the kid fumble to get off the tiles while keeping Jason in his sight?  Absolutely hilarious.  The way the kid won’t turn his back to Jason because he’s still labelled as  _ ‘confusing’ _ .  Heartbreaking.

It’s only taken a week and a day to get to this point.

Where Tim feels safe doing something other than watching Jason warily.

He sighs and stretches, looping an arm around Tim’s shoulders and ignores the way Tim flinches.  Has to ignore the way the kid flinches if he doesn’t want to get angry enough to kill something.  “So, what else did you clean for me, babybird?  I mean, seriously, some of this shit could be completely different from what I’ve always known.”

Tim looks at him out of the corner of his eye.  “The kitchen, bedroom, fire escape.”  Jason watches as he chews on his lips, obviously deciding whether or not to say the next thing.  “Did you know you had a nest of mice in your sock drawer?”

Jason bites back a laugh as Tim’s resting face -- his ‘wary of people, don’t let them take you off guard face’ -- morphs into one of disgust.  “Nah, find them a good home did ya, babybird?”

Tim is obviously not amused.  He grumbles something, shoving ineffectively at Jason’s arm.  When he can't move the offending appendage he repeats it louder.  “They’re in the box on the fire escape actually. I burned all of your socks, by the way.”

“Wait, what? You  _ burned _ my socks?”

He gets a gentle elbow to the ribs this time -- enough pressure for his grip to loosen and Tim to duck away, biting his lip and escaping to the bathroom.  Jason freezes completely -- still learning the limits of the walls Tim put up -- and just stares after Tim for a few minutes.  A puff of air escapes between Jason’s closed lips and he shakes his head before wandering into the kitchen proper for some food.

\---

They eat dinner together, like they always do.  

When Jason bullied the kid into staying at his apartment, until Jason was sure he wasn’t gonna do something stupid, he didn’t expect to develop a routine.  He’s not complaining about the food though.  Alfred obviously makes it and someone ninja’s his way in to feed them.  Jason has his money on Dickie.

But the thing is, it’s not quite comfortable.

Tim obviously doesn’t trust him completely -- and who can blame the kid.   

They’re sort of falling into the roles of siblings.  Sort of.  Because it’s not quite there yet: strangers who tried to kill each other to sort of siblings who spend most of the day together just doesn’t happen in a little over a week.

Maybe tomorrow Jason’ll recommend going out somewhere.  It can’t be healthy for the kid to spend every moment in one shitty apartment.  And as much as Jason loves his home, it wasn’t made for two.  So, maybe they can get Tim back in his and Jason can like, observe or some shit like that.

\---

Jason opens an eye when he feels a tentative touch to his hand.  Tim is standing there - outlined by the light in the kitchen - in a too big shirt and holding the arm, that isn’t reaching out, protectively in front of him.  It takes a minute to realize that there are tears silently making their way down Tim’s face.

It doesn’t take much effort for Jason to roll over.  Tim’s been coming to him on and off the last few days when it gets too much and he can’t sort through everything by himself.  Jason flips his hand over and takes hold of Tim’s, gently lacing their fingers together to show that the kid’s welcome.  “Cm’erebbbird.”

A soft sob escapes Tim as he buries his face in Jason’s chest.  It’s a bit painful to be tackled under the weight of the kid, but he’ll deal.

“Shhhhbbbird.  S’ok.”

The slurred words are more of an effort to make sure Tim knows he’s here.  Because it’s probably not okay.  Not right now.  Not to Tim but Jason’s willing to work through this.  Part of working through it -- something he’s found out through trial and error -- is not rushing Tim into speaking.  He might’ve made a few more mistakes after the first conversation.

Sighing softly, Jason rubs his thumb across Tim’s knuckles.  He can tell it’s working to calm the kid down when Tim shifts, from where he just sprawled out on top of Jason, to a more comfortable position.

A deep breath expands his chest and raises Tim up, causing a glare.  Jason just chuckles -- who knew that the kid would be a cuddler? -- and entwines his other hand in Tim’s hair.  “Feel be’er, ‘bybird?”  He doesn’t get a reply and that’s okay, Jason didn’t expect an answer.  Tim yawns.

A snort escapes Jason, the kid looks like a small woodland animal.  Big, bright eyes and a face that seems innocent.  Jason knows it’s time to go back to sleep when he starts rambling like that, even if it’s just in his head.  So he curls over onto his side, tucking Tim up under his chin.  It may not be enough but he’s at least showing the kid he’s there.

“Now go the fuck to sleep.”

A watery laugh escapes Tim as he does as he’s told.

**Part IV**

Tim wakes up warm, the rise and fall of the chest behind him nearly lulling him back to sleep.  He doesn’t panic - only because he remembers seeking Jason out after a particularly bad night terror.

It’s odd, he thinks.  How just in a few short weeks he’s learned to be mostly okay with whatever it is they’re doing.  Jason says they’re trying to be brothers, which okay.  But it still is confusing.  Jason said they can work on it though; Tim just has to take his time and they’ll be okay.

“Jason.”  The arms around his waist tighten in response.  He’d panic but ‘ _ family doesn’t do that shit, babybird’ _ echoes through his mind.  He repeats it: repeats it over and over until he has the slightest chance to believe it.  But he needs up.  He can’t go back to sleep -- won’t -- and even though he’s warm and feels sort of safe with Jason, he’s still.  He needs to get up.  So, he ignores the muffled groan that escapes Jason’s lips when Tim elbows him.

“Noo.  A’ksl’p.” Jason sighs.  Tim doesn’t let up, continually elbowing until Jason loosens his grip enough to wiggle out.  As soon as Tim’s free he can tell Jason’s grumpy about losing his portable heater.  “Wake me up in an hour babybird.”

“Sure.”

Tim won’t though.  Because Jason needs his sleep, he’s spent too much time taking care of Tim in the last few weeks.  It’s nice but, well, he can’t do it forever.  Tim can’t get used to it.  Jason will leave because Tim can’t give him what he should.  

No, Tim won’t give him anything he doesn’t  _ want _ to give -- Jason keeps saying he doesn’t have to.  Repeats and repeats it until Tim has a chance to believe him.

A huff of air escapes him as he wanders into the kitchen.  It’s a bit strange knowing Jason’s apartment so well in only a few weeks.  But then again, Jason’s been good with dealing with him - with his neuroses.  He knows when to let Tim just be.  Dad ( _ don’t think about it _ ), Dana ( _ did she even know? _ ), Bruce ( _ you saved him, babybird _ ).  Bruce never did.  Bruce would try to fix him in the little ways.  He wouldn’t let Tim know he was trying to.  Wouldn’t let Tim know anything other than disappointment.

But Tim’s not stupid.  Tim’s obsessive, somewhat socially inept, awkward and as Jason keeps telling him traumatised.  But he’s not stupid.  He’s never been stupid.

Anyways, Tim’s mostly comfortable.  Here he doesn’t have to be anything else but Tim.  Not to Jason.  So, when a knock echoes through the apartment Tim doesn’t think twice before answering it.  It’s normally Alfred or Leslie making sure neither of them are dead, yet.

“Little brother!”

“Oh,” he thinks he might start panicking.  He wasn’t, he’s  _ not ready _ .  “Hey Dick.”

It takes two minutes of Dick just staring at him for Dick to actually do something.  He lunges forwards, wrapping arms around Tim.  If he pretends, he can just believe that Dick’s the one shaking, that Tim isn’t shaking with him.  “Dick-“

“No.”  It’s a shutdown.  Maybe Tim should start planning his get away.

“Dick-“

There’s pain in Dick’s voice, to match his shaking.  “No.  You.  You never return my calls.  You’re always out.  I just.  No.  You’ll cuddle me, damn it, or I’m going to force you to.”

Tim pales, struggling in Dick’s arms before giving up.  He thinks this is just the way Dick shows he cares but the words make his heart stutter.  “How will you do that?”

“Seeing as you’re here, in Jason’s apartment, well I’ll get him to help me.”

Good.  That’s good because, “Jason won’t help you.”  He wants Tim to get better, to be able to say no and learn that he doesn’t have to do these things.

“Oh really?  He’s my little brother too you know.  I have my ways.”

Tim’s a little terrified.  Dick’s not gonna give up and who knows what the next step would be?  Would he have to -- but no, don’t think about it.   _ Family doesn’t do that shit _ .  Dick’s family.  Dick cares about Tim just as much as Jason.  (Maybe more?)  So, Tim does the one thing he knows will make Dick let up, make Dick give him a little space so he can breathe and think.  “I haven’t eaten in eighteen hours and was just going to get breakfast.”

“Timmy!”

He ignores the sharp sting at the reprimand in Dick’s voice.  “So yeah.  I need to get food from the kitchen, if you could let me go?”

Dick doesn’t though.  He continues to hold on.  When he starts talking, it’s quiet and Tim has to strain to hear him.  “I don’t want to lose you, little brother.”

Ouch.  That ends up hurting a lot.  Tim doesn’t want to lose him either but there’s things he has to learn to do -- at least according to Jason and maybe Leslie.  There’s a lump in Tim’s throat that he can’t speak past, tight and cloying against the words of  _ ‘I’m sorry I’m broken please believe me I don’t want to hurt you I’ll do anything for you’ _ .  But he can’t say the words, doesn’t know if those words are even  _ right _ anymore.  So, he ends up relaxing his muscles, resting his forehead against Dick’s shoulder.  It’s nice.  Tim had forgotten how Dick’s hugs felt.  He supposes that he can stay here for a while: to reassure Dick that he’s still here.

Grumbling comes from the bedroom as Jason stumbles out, barely looking at Dick and the trapped Tim.  Dick smiles -- it’s a bit forced.  He must know something is wrong, but Tim doesn’t want him blaming Jason.  He doesn’t though.  Keeps quiet and just keeps holding Tim, rocking on the balls of his heels a bit as they watch as Jason whacks into the counter, blinking owlishly.  “What’e fuck is Dickie doin’ here?”

“I miss Tim.  You spend all your time hogging him Jason.  I want cuddles too!”

Jason makes a quick glance at Tim.  He smiles slightly to show he’s not in any real distress, hoping it comes across.  It seems to.   Because Jason goes back to staring blearily at Dick, emptying the pantry in search of food.  “Well, since we ain’t all cuddle whores like you, I don’t see the issue, Dickie.  And how the fuck did you get in my apartment?”

Tim really doesn’t want to answer that, doesn’t want to admit that he let Dick in by accident.  Dick doesn’t seem inclined to answer him either.  He pouts a bit, before twirling Tim and grinning.  “No, but you’re doing domestic pretty well.”

Jason swears at him as Tim ducks his face, now beet red, back against Dick’s shoulders.  Jason throws a spoon, which Dick catches.  

“I’m glad.”

Jason snorts, the only reaction to Dick’s whisper.  Tim doesn’t know what to do, so he does nothing.

\---

Dick stays for the rest of the day, rotating cuddles between Tim and Jason -- it’s amusing watching Dick force Jason onto the couch to cuddle.  It also starts to cement the idea that  _ ‘Family doesn’t do that shit.’ _  It still makes Tim pretty antsy by the end of it.  He just wants to go hide in the bedroom, which is always an option.  Jason’s told him that.  But Tim thinks -- knows -- that if he leaves now, all the steps he’s taken will be for nothing.

Dick stretches, looking at Tim for a moment.  It’s a calm look, collected and a bit hard to read.  Tim can’t understand what that looks supposed to mean other than Dick is happy to see him.  “I have to head out; you take care of Timmy for me?  ‘Cause you’re staying here, right Timbo?”

Jason grunts an answer.  He got fed up with Dick halfway through the first couch cuddle.  Tim wonders if he should go, stop imposing on Jason.  He doesn’t get to answer or ask anything, Dick’s phone shrills out that annoying pop song he’s obsessed with.

“Hel- Bruce.”  Dick goes quiet as Bruce talks.  A frown deepens on his face, keeps deepening the longer Bruce talks.  “No.”

There’s silence on Dick’s end again.  He’s not happy and Tim wants to bolt.  He can’t though, because at that moment Dick hands Tim the phone - he’s still frowning.  Tim doesn’t like that expression on Dick.  It means something is wrong.  ( _ That he’s wrong _ .)

“Hello?” 

“Tim.  I want you to come back to the Manor.  I’ve let this go on for long enough.”

Tim freezes, almost dropping the phone.  He can’t help the look of panic he sends to Jason because he can’t breathe.  Bruce obviously wants something and in wanting it it’ll probably take him away from Jason, most likely Dick too.  Tim.  Tim doesn’t. He can’t.  A low noise -- it would probably be classified as a keen -- escapes his throat and suddenly he doesn’t have the phone anymore.  

Jason does.  

Jason who is swearing and rage at Bruce.  Tim can hear the words, but they’re not registering.  He can’t go back to that.  Not, not now after everything.  It’s only been a week.  It’s only been a week but he’s _ maybe  _ starting to believe and -- Jason raises his voice, causing Tim to flinch but Dick is there, whispering soothing words in Tim’s ear, rocking them gently.

“It’s okay, little brother.  You don’t have to go back.  It’s okay.”

But it’s not.  Because Tim’s fucking up.  He’s starting to believe something that could be true?  But he doesn’t know.  He doesn’t know and he’s relying on Jason -- and now Dick -- to show him it’s okay.  But Bruce is their dad and he doesn’t approve of Tim.  Doesn’t approve and Tim’s not family but maybe he’s something and he can be something to Bruce.   _ But no one is allowed to do that to you _ .  Jason told him so.  Dick.  Dick doesn’t know but he’s following Jason’s lead, so it must be right.  Dick still says Tim’s his little brother.  He just wants Tim to  _ be there _ and -- Tim doesn’t understand.  He doesn’t.  He can’t.

“Babybird, look at me.”

Jason’s there -- strong and steady and right -- forcing Tim to look meet his eyes.  Dick still has an arm wrapped around Tim’s waist, his forehead resting on Tim’s shoulder.  There’s a steadily growing spot on Tim’s shirt that’s becoming wet with Dick’s tears.  It’s _ terrifying  _ that Dick’s crying over him. But --

“Okay.”

“You’re not going back.”

“Okay.”

“I mean it.”

“Okay.”  Tim hears two frustrated noises: one from Dick and one from Jason.  He knows it’s because they don’t believe him; they think that  _ he _ doesn’t believe them.  But, he wants to.  He might be starting too.  He wants to believe them and he wants his okay to mean something too.  To get through to them that he’s there and listening.  “Okay.  You said we’ll be okay.”

Jason smiles then.  “Hell yeah, babybird.”


End file.
